


Stain

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-22
Updated: 2003-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1624082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Apocalypse, they got flat-out, drop-down, rip-snotting drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kaydee falls

 

 

After the Apocalypse, they got flat-out, drop-down, rip-snotting drunk. 

At the Ritz there was Cristal, and afterward at Aziraphale's shop there was the 1982 Cos d'Estournel, the Remy Martin Louis XIII Cognac, and the Johnny Walker Blue Label. Relief and dread and anticipation washed over them faster than the alcohol could keep up. 

Through a haze Aziraphale had looked up at Crowley and felt a twisting in his gut. The closest thing he'd ever felt to it were those first few conversations and, later, touches he'd shared with the demon. The nausea, the headaches, the stomach-flips... just being close had made them both ill. Originally the same, now Crowley had been made the enemy-Aziraphale was glad that he'd never known Crowley in heaven. But they had adjusted to each other, and to earth, and now, looking up into Crowley's hopeful, fearful face, he'd wanted to feel it all again. 

It was so simple to lean forward and press himself against Crowley, blocking out the demon's words with his mouth, to knock both of them to the ground in an awkward tangle of limbs. So simple, so right. 

Until the next morning. 

__

Aziraphale squinted at the morning light peeking through the window shades. He groaned as his stomach rolled. Not wanting to deal with the consequences of all the alcohol running through his system from the night before, he quickly closed his eyes and forced the after-effects of the alcohol from his body. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he sat up and looked around him, trying hard to recall the events of the previous night. Several seconds of blissful ignorance passed until he looked down at the figure lying peacefully beside him, forcing his memories to rise to the surface. 

"Oh--" centuries of carefully crafted habit barely kept him from cursing, "blast!" 

This didn't really have the emphasis he was going for. He tried repeating it a few times, but it didn't seem to help matters. Unprepared to handle Crowley, Aziraphale was careful not to wake the demon as he got up off of the stockroom floor and moved to the main room to begin pacing. 

"What have I done?" he murmured to himself. "How could I have let this happen? He's a demon, and I... we are an abomination before the eyes of God." 

After many long minutes, Aziraphale's pacings led him back into the stockroom, where he stood gazing down at Crowley's sleeping form. In this state, Crowley looked almost innocent-- as he must have looked before his fall. Kneeling beside Crowley, he placed a hand on the demon's brow and whispered "Be healed." The least he could do was spare him the pain of a hangover upon waking. As if this kind gesture was a signal, Crowley rolled over and opened his eyes. Aziraphale started, then turned his head to avoid the demon's disoriented gaze. 

"Wha' happened?" Crowley asked, the events of the night not yet having made their way into his conscious memory. Aziraphale couldn't even bring himself to answer, instead retreating to the other room to think. In a few minutes for Crowley hesitantly followed him, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes. 

"Look, Angel, what happened last night was--" 

Aziraphale cut him off. "It was a mistake. I don't understand it. I'm sure that He won't understand it." 

"Whatever happened to `ineffable?'" Crowley sneered. Aziraphale shrugged. 

"Angels don't do what we did. Ever. It goes against... everything." 

"Why? What did we do that was so wrong? Didn't you like it?" Crowley was still smug, despite Aziraphale's obvious distress. 

Aziraphale looked away, and thought for a long second before replying. "Well... yes. But that's not the point. The point is, I should never have even entertained those thoughts, much less acted on them. I'm an angel, my dear-- Crowley. The concept of unconditional love has been bred into me, but sex-- sex is another matter entirely." 

Crowley listened to Aziraphale with growing annoyance at the angel's circular logic. "Oh, for-- Aziraphale, just think about this for a moment, without letting your delicate angelic sensibilities get in the way. First off, in the eyes of God, when is sex not bad?" 

Aziraphale thought for a moment. "Well, for humans, they must be married." 

Crowley hissed, frustrated by Aziraphale's reluctance to seriously address the issue at hand. "Forget humans, we're going for universal truths here. So we'll say that in order for sex to be right in His eyes, two beings must be married. Would you say that's accurate?" 

"Well... I suppose so, but..." 

Crowley would not let him finish. "Well, what is marriage? Not the technical definition, but the spirit of marriage, if you will." 

Not liking where this conversation was going, a flustered Aziraphale simply sidestepped the question. "I don't see what this has to do with anything." 

Crowley had no intention of letting him off the hook. "Just think for a second, all right? Now... ideally, marriage is a life long bond, yes?" 

Aziraphale was unable to deny this, although he still didn't like it. "Well yes, in the eyes of God. The humans have--" 

"Never mind the humans." Crowley refused to let Aziraphale get off track, constantly redirecting the conversation back to the point he was trying to prove. "So marriage is a life-long bond. Based on love, am I right?" Aziraphale nodded reluctantly. "All right. Marriage is a life long bond based on love. Let's use that as our working definition. Now. As an angel, you love all things unconditionally. That includes me, right?" Aziraphale had no choice but to concur. "And how long would you say we've known each other? And of that time, how long have we been friends?" 

Aziraphale thought on this, then looked at Crowley for the first time in the course of the conversation. "Well, a millenia. And we've been known each other for six thousand years." Crowley smiled. This was going exactly the way he wanted. 

"OK, so we've been friends for thousands of years. A human might say... for several lifetimes?" Seeing Crowley's point, but not wanting to deal with it, Aziraphale simply looked away. Not to be deterred, Crowley kept on. "So, we've had this bond for several lifetimes, and it is a bond based on love... both yours for me, and... mine for you." This last was said quickly and quietly, and Crowley continued before Aziraphale had a chance to remark on it. "In other words, between us, we have all the makings of a marriage. A strange one, perhaps, but a marriage nonetheless. So why do you keep insisting that sex between us is so wrong? I can see nothing wrong with it." 

Aziraphale said nothing, but abandoned the shelf he was leaning on and made his way back to the stockroom. Uncertain and uneasy but unwilling to leave, Crowley picked up a book at random from the pile next to him and began leafing through it to pass the time. 

Aziraphale collapsed onto the floor, shaking slightly. He had listened to everything that Crowley said, and could find no fault in his logic, but he still could not believe that God would see things that way. He turned Crowley's words over and over in his mind, and the more he thought, the more right Crowley seemed. And if Crowley was right, then God would not be angry with Aziraphale. For the first time that morning, Aziraphale became calm enough to look inside himself. All beings have the ability to communicate with God, and for angels, it is that much easier. God is always with them, and is so much a part of them that often, they cannot tell the difference between their own impulses and those given them by God. All that is required is quiet, and a complete willingness to listen. 

Aziraphale sat quietly for the better part of an hour, just noting everything that was going on inside his heart and his mind. Nowhere could he find any revulsion towards Crowley, or any anger or regret directed at what had passed between them. Perhaps God had intended Aziraphale to form this bond with Crowley. Perhaps it was to help him better understand humans, or himself. Whatever the reason, he still felt the presence of God within him, and so he could not have been abandoned. 

Aziraphale came out into the morning light streaming into the shop, and watched Crowley speculatively for a still moment. Then the demon looked up and met his gaze--tentative, but determined, wondering if it was time for round two. Aziraphale shook his head and smiled, then came and pulled the book out of Crowley's hands. 

"You should know better by now than to bend my book's spines," he chided, softening his words with a gentle kiss. 

 


End file.
